


descanso ii. shovel them under and let me work

by marythefan (marylex)



Series: descansos [1]
Category: Stargate: Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-25
Updated: 2007-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marylex/pseuds/marythefan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For luck, they'll say, touching the necklace and the playing card where they're pinned to the wall at eye-level. <br/>Reed, Miller and Stackhouse. <br/>For "The Storm/The Eye."</p>
            </blockquote>





	descanso ii. shovel them under and let me work

By the time the fifth or sixth wave of boots rides in on the Daedalus for duty in Atlantis, the talisman already will have taken on a superstitious significance, the shine worn off the silver, the sheen rubbed from the playing card by the fingers of countless shifts coming into the ready room. For luck, they'll say, touching the necklace and the card where they're pinned to the wall at eye-level, the silver chain wrapped twice around the queen's midsection, the Star of David hanging down over her breast.

They'll say it keeps nasty surprises from coming through the 'Gate - keeps things boring until you stand down, a field-day monotonous shift of stripped weapons and Lubriplate and penny poker for chocolate rations instead of Sucker stunner blasts and Jackrat Genii coming through the wormhole. They'll say it's only for watch shifts, not for away missions, not for when you go looking to bust caps.

The early reverence in the touches will fall away. Like soldiers throughout history, they hold their customs dear - even sacred - but after constant exposure, the charm will take on the same kind of utility as the city, herself. Only the old guard, the Atlantis lifers, will pause - Miller kissing two fingers before pressing them in a sign of victory or peace against the display, Stackhouse closing his eyes and ducking his head as he pauses in the doorway and reaches out a hand - the ones who gave Reed the gouge after he arrived, tales of Maier, who gave as good as he got when his squadmates ribbed him for his kosher MREs, of Paterson, who carried his good-luck card in his breast pocket where other men might carry a picture of a sweetheart, the queen of diamonds because he wasn't ready yet for the queen of hearts. Probably a damn good thing, for a guy on a one-way trip to Pegasus, Miller will say over a bottle of third-wave hooch.

After the storm and the Genii, they'll hang the necklace and the card on the wall, and the touches will become a good-luck ritual, but Reed will watch the fresh faces as they come in on firewatch, the new fingers pressed against the star and the queen, and he'll think of two men he never had the chance to serve with, and he'll remember that it started as a tribute and a reminder to vigilance.


End file.
